Friends who like reading novels should pay attention. It is an ancient romance novel, and it does not require time travel (but classic time travel is also available)

"Emperor's Industry" is about the founding emperor and the queen. The female protagonist accompanies the male protagonist to conquer the country. The writing is very good. I like it very much.

"Three Lives, Three Worlds, Ten Miles of Peach Blossom" is definitely a masterpiece. Classic, my favorite, I will regret it if I don’t watch it

The title of “The Queen’s Affair” sounds like time travel, but it’s not, and it’s also very different from what I imagined. It’s from Empress Xu and Zhu Di

"The Ballad of the Desert" is from the Han Dynasty, and the male protagonist is Huo Qubing

"Ten Miles of Red Makeup" A rich businessman with a lot of money and a pearl enters the palace as the crown prince, and the prince treats her from disdain to admiration to deep love

"The Legend of Zhen Huan in the Harem" is a classic palace fight, right?

"The Queen's Policy" is well written, some people like it very much, but some people can't stand it, I don't know why

"Blowing" "Never Scattering Eyebrows" Warm Article

The heroine of "My Queen" is very cute

"The Seduction of the Wrong Concubine" is good-looking, but it also belongs to the category where the male protagonist doesn't love the female protagonist at first, but Later I found out that I couldn’t do it without her, it’s very beautiful

The heroine of "Xian Ge Nan Wang" is very smart and the male protagonist is very strong

"Try the World" Black Fengxi, White Fengxi, atmospheric The writing of "Nirvana in Fire"

The writing style of "Nirvana in Fire" is very good and heart-stirring

The author of Coquettish Little Epiphyllum: Ju Ming

She hates him the most! This guy's existence is simply to highlight her incompetence. From his name to his appearance, she just doesn't like it!

What about painting erotic paintings? She is also very diligent in "copying on the spot", unlike him, who always draws dragons and phoenixes, and no one knows whether they look similar or not! But it's strange to say that this man "seems" to be old-fashioned

but he can tell at a glance that the postures of the characters in her paintings are incorrect! She refused to die and refused to admit that she would make such a mistake, but in order to fully implement the "spirit of artistic creation"

she had no choice but to half-believe it, half-assume it, and half-rehearse it with him. What was even stranger was that when he made a stroke She actually had a feeling of being real and illusory when he drew a touching pattern with his brush.

It seemed that the young and beautiful female character in his painting was her. And he, with the help of the brush in his hand, was making people laugh. She was confused and panicked...

Excerpt: "Why did you tear it up after you finished drawing it?" You always chase me and ask the same question. I don't want to answer it, and act as if you don't exist. Ignore you.

Say it and it should scare you.

I tear up paintings to kill people.

"Are you not good at painting? But I don't think it's ugly..." You sit next to me on the bench and watch me paint from the closest distance.

My eyes moved from the painting in my hand to your face, feeling ridiculous about your aesthetics.

"Do you think this painting is good-looking?" Can a portrait of a man with a vulgar appearance and a fierce look be called good-looking? ! I couldn't help but scoff.

"People are not good-looking, but your painting looks like a real person, unlike the ones I saw in my grandpa's room, where the eyebrows and eyes are all crooked."

< p> "You also think people are not good-looking, right? Since they are not good-looking, of course I tear them apart." The sound of tearing up paintings always makes my blood boil. Watching the characters in the paintings being torn apart from left to right, with their facial features peeled off, The beast in my heart was awakened, and I couldn't satisfy myself, so I tore the painting into pieces even more -

Not enough! Not enough! I tore several more paintings in succession. Amidst the tearing sounds, I imagined how each face in the painting would face death. I laughed happily.

I soaked in the blood of my father, mother and brothers, and saw every enemy I saw for the last time in their blood. Those ferocious and ruthless faces became the last sight of my family...I He was taken to the market to buy sweets by the wet nurse and became an orphan who survived. I inherited the bloodline of a mystic and used bloody secrets to avenge my family - I was only a few years old, I had no strength in my hands, I couldn't hold a sword, and it was even more difficult to lift a knife, but I used the method I was good at, one by one. Put an end to the enemies I drew.

I know you smelled the strange smell of blood ink, so you brought an inkstone and ink sticks from somewhere, and grinded new ink for me to draw every day. Idiot, ordinary black ink can only draw pictures and can't help me with anything at all. Only the lives of characters drawn with blood are under my control. Otherwise, no matter how much I draw or tear up, it will all be in vain.

I always see you in embarrassment with your face covered in black ink, and full of hope as you hold the black ink around me, ignoring your intentions, but gradually being moved by your patience.

Since the days when I lost my family, how long has it been since I "really" drew?

I asked my father's senior brother to adopt me. He knew nothing about my father or my identity as a mystic. He just thought that a bandit broke into my house at night and robbed my property. His deeds were exposed and he killed me. Little did he know that the real cause of the disaster came from the bloodline of mystics inherited by the Fei family. He thought that my good drawing skills came from my parents' skills as painters, but he didn't understand that I only wanted revenge when I drew!

After tearing off the faces of all my enemies yesterday, the last thing I want to draw is myself.

Maybe before I draw the last painting for myself, I can let myself relax and paint some random things with this kid. Anyway... I won’t have the chance in the future.

"Stop grinding and come here." I called you over, frowning and wiping away the eye-catching ink beads on your nose.

"What to do?"

"Take it." I put the pen in your soft but ink-stained hand. "Have you ever drawn a picture?" I asked.

"No, grandpa doesn't allow me to touch it."

"I'll teach you how to draw. What do you want to learn?" I said, stained by the ink you worked so hard to polish.

"Flowers."

Exactly as I expected, the girl loves this thing.

"Okay, just flowers." Let's have a peony first, Wei Zi.

"It's so difficult..." Your little face wrinkled up, looking distressed.

"It's not difficult. Look, the petals are drawn like this, starting from the petal closest to the core."

"It's so difficult..."

< p>"I'm teaching you how to draw. Look, don't look at me, just look at the pen and paper."

"It's so difficult... I don't like to draw this kind of flower. You choose something easier."

p>

"That painting of lotus. Come on, paint like this, and dye it like this, and another lotus petal will look like this-" The beauty in the water blooms on the paper.

"It's so hard..."

Hold it! Don't be like a baby!

"Otherwise, orchids, let's paint orchids."

"It's so difficult..."

"Rose——" A blue vein.

"It's so difficult..."

"Ju——" There are two blue veins.

"It's so difficult..."

"I'll teach you how to draw Guizi! If this is difficult, I won't teach you any more!" Every vein is bursting, I yell at you Shrink your shoulders.

A little, a little, a little, and a little more, the pen was pressed lightly on the paper four times. There is no need for advanced rendering or outline to draw the osmanthus. An osmanthus finally took shape, and this time you didn't complain anymore.

"This is the flower I drew, the first time I drew it!" You smiled happily, holding the pen yourself and repeatedly dotting the simple flowers. "Teach me how to draw more difficult flowers next time!"

Teach me something more difficult? Didn't you see me scoffing? When I was your age, I could already draw hundreds of flowers!

And... next time?

How could there be a next time? These two words made my chest choke.

"There will be no next time."

"Why? Aren't you going to teach me?" The sweet smile on the joyful little face froze.

"Yes."

"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" Tears immediately filled up.

"I don't have time to teach you."

"But you don't seem busy."

"By "no time, I don't mean busy or not busy" , but refers to whether there is a life sect." I said it deliberately so that you couldn't hear it, but there was a thought in my heart that I wanted to laugh, "But maybe I won't be too pathetic if you will be with me in the end."< /p>

At least on this last journey, I will remember you.

At least I didn’t walk this last part of the road alone.

"I don't understand what you are talking about."

I don't want you to understand either. You just need to open your eyes and watch, and just stay with me until I finish tearing off all the paintings. That's enough.

I took out the blood ink, and you immediately pinched the wings of your nose and rolled your eyes around me.

I took new paper and drew my face on it.

"You are drawing you!" You shouted in surprise, as if you were surprised and happy, making a fuss. "You can draw me later, okay?"

"No!" I flatly refused.

If I draw it with blood ink, as long as the painting is torn off, there will be no life left. What do you know? !

You pursed your lips and trembled, big tears hung in the corners of your eyes, and you could squeeze them out as long as you squinted a little more——

"Don't cry!" I shouted, you He immediately held it back, and several aggrieved sobs were choked in his mouth.

I think I have softened my heart. "...I will help you draw again tomorrow. Remember to come over and sharpen the ink." As long as I don't draw you with blood ink, I will draw as many pictures as you want.

"You don't want to use smelly ink to draw for me?"

"Yes."

"Then you don't want to use smelly ink to draw yourself, okay?" You He begged softly and wiped away his tears.

"...Of course it's not good."

"Why is it bad?"

"Don't keep asking why." Annoying.

"Why don't you ask why?"

"Are you a tongue twister?" He glared at you coldly.

"I can't ask...but it's drawn with smelly ink, it smells..." You lowered your head.

"After drawing this, I will no longer use smelly ink to draw pictures."

"Have you finally decided to throw it away? Or have you finally smelled its strange smell? Son? I was wondering if you have a bad nose and the ink stinks..." You were still talking very happily, but you went so far as to criticize me. I narrowed my eyes. Fortunately, you had the self-awareness to keep your mouth shut. .

I took advantage of your quiet moment to finish painting the portrait. "Does it look like the painting?"

"Yeah, it seems, it's exactly the same."

Yes, it's exactly the same, it's exactly the face I saw in the painting.

This is the last one. After tearing up the painting, it’s over.

Finally.

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the joy of relief in my heart. As long as I tore up the painting, it would take as little as a few hours or as long as three days, and I would welcome my own death.

"What are you doing?!" You jumped over and grabbed my hand to prevent me from tearing up the painting.

"Why do you keep asking questions? Annoying! Go away and let me tear it up!"

"Don't tear it! Don't tear it! This painting is very good. ! Why are you tearing it up? ”

I won’t listen. You are just a little baby. Even if you use all your strength, you can’t stop me from tearing it apart. determination.

I felt a sharp pain on the back of my hand, forcing me to let go of my hand.

"You - it hurts! You bit me?!" There were shocking teeth marks on the back of my hand.

"Who, who taught you to tear up paintings!" You snatched away the paintings with your teeth, ran far away, and stared at me cautiously.

"Why can't I tear up the things I drew?!"

"Don't ask why."

You still dare to use my words to block me? It’s just annoying for a long time!

"Give me back the painting!" I strode forward.

"No! You're going to tear the painting up as soon as you get it. I don't want to give it back to you!" You got under the chair, crawled and crawled, and then went around under the table. You are big, but I am not as good at drilling as you. It is obvious that I am about to catch you, but the next moment you squeeze into the narrow gap, like a mouse playing with a cat.

Damn it! It was you who forced me!

I drew a binding spell on my hand, jumped up on the table, waited for you to slip out from under the table, and slapped your face with one hand——

"Sure!"< /p>

As soon as the binding spell came out, you fell straight down. You tried to struggle, but you couldn't. I learned the binding spell better than my father, but I didn't expect to use it to deal with a little baby one day. Son.

"Ugh...you can't tear this painting up! Do you hear me! If you tear this painting up, I will never come to you again! I will never talk to you again. ! I’ll never ignore you again! I’ll never paint with you again—” You were so frightened that you looked incoherently as I squatted down and started to move towards the painting in your arms.

"I don't care at all whether you come to me, whether you talk to me, whether you pay attention to me, whether you agree with me or not, whether you paint with me or not." Do you think I care about that? Those things are dispensable to a dying person, and I still find you annoying!

You cried. I don’t know whether it was because of my ruthless rebuttal or because I couldn’t protect the painting.

"You don't want that painting, give it to me... I want it... ugh... don't tear it up... it's you in that painting - it's you... If it weren't for you, I would You wouldn't be so protective... You actually said you don't care whether I come to see you or not... and you don't care if I talk to you... ugh... I want... I want that painting..." You trembled, Tears poured out of my eyes in large numbers.

"Isn't it good to tear it up? Anyway, it's gone. Dad, mother, and two younger brothers are all gone. It's the only one left. Why bother? Isn't it good to let it stay with relatives as a companion? ? It lives to avenge its relatives. Now, those enemies have been torn into pieces one by one. It has fulfilled its wish. Didn't you hear it? It is begging me to tear it apart and not let it be left alone. Just stay here!"

I don't understand what you are trying to prevent! There is nothing to cry about! In my eyes, this is the best ending. Why should I carry such a heavy burden alone? ! Why don't you just let me go with my family? In this way, I don't have to force myself to grow up overnight, and I don't have to let my hands be stained with blood. Since all this cannot be reversed, I can always decide my own life and death!

"I don’t have my father and my mother... ugh... I don’t have anything either... I am also lonely... If it is lonely, you can help it draw a picture next to it. I don’t have anyone to accompany me... I can keep it company. It doesn’t matter if you use smelly ink to draw with it. If you draw together, you won’t be alone..." Those tearful eyes of yours have never left me. Tears The binding curse on your face is soaked, twisting into criss-crossing rivers of ink, and the sound of crying is almost hard to understand what you are saying, but you still insist on speaking.

Stop crying! Why are you crying? ! Why cry? ! You are alone and lonely. That is your own business. Just cry for yourself. Why do you look at me with pity? !

Am I pitiful? Do I make you feel sympathetic? !

The hem of my clothes is holding the fist that you moved with difficulty, and you are crying in a panic, but you are still asking me not to tear up this painting; you are still saying that you must accompany the people in the painting. Me...

Why?

Why do I feel that... I really hope to be with you?

Why am I afraid of being alone?

Why am I cowardly?

"Do you really want to accompany it into the painting?" I heard myself ask hoarsely.

You responded to me so firmly. The restraint of the binding spell made your movements seem so hesitant, but your voice was full of affirmation.

"If you draw them together, you can't separate them."

Forever and ever, you can't separate them. As long as the painting is destroyed, it will not only be me who will die, but also you...

"We will not separate."

The look on your face when you spoke shocked me, and you didn't even think about it. Promise makes my heart twist. I know that I have been convinced by you. Your crying has broken down the wall of my heart. Your tears have made up for the grievances of losing my family but forcing myself to grow up without crying. I See my tears, seeping through your eyes, venting without reservation.

I wipe away your tears and the binding curse on your face.

"Then, sit here." I polished my pen and looked at you. You walked closer obediently and asked me to hold you on my lap, and then said, "Hold the pen."

< p>You hold the penny.

"Draw yourself on it." My vision gradually blurred as I looked at your little hand, and the hot water mist burned my eyes. I closed my eyes and endured the pain, feeling the water streaks sliding across my cheeks. Unfamiliar moisture.

You turned your head and looked at me, and I lowered my neck to prevent you from seeing any of my expressions at this time.

"But I don't know how to draw, how about you lead me in painting?"

I wanted to use your hands to let you accompany me into painting, but not Your life needs to be bound by secret techniques. Even if the painting is torn, you will still be safe and sound, but you beg softly.

I know that once you are in the painting, it is impossible for me to destroy the painting, or if the painting is destroyed, you will die with me.

I stretched out my palm and hesitated on the back of your hand. You were waiting for me, even preparing to grab mine with your other hand. I didn’t wait for your urging, and gently covered my hand. In your hand, I tighten my fingers, and my palm is filled with you.

Draw your eyes and your lips. I close my eyes and your face appears in my eyes. I take a deep breath and my lungs are filled with your scent.

It was you who stopped me from despising life. You don’t know that your existence pieced together another incomplete heart; you don’t know that you saved me unintentionally.

From this moment on, I swear that we will never let each other be alone again.

Just like you and me in the painting, in pairs.

If I can suggest you read "Boys and Girls" at the end of the month, and "Fantasy", there are many such good articles in them...